


expensive tastes (a perfect set)

by lizardhair



Series: a perfect set [1]
Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Creepy Roman Sionis, Developing Relationship, Dirty Thoughts, I'm Sorry Jason Todd, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mercenaries, Multi, No Smut, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Ownership, Possessive Behavior, this started as a black mask has a harem of mercenaries joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23015686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardhair/pseuds/lizardhair
Summary: Black Mask enjoys collecting fine things.Especially when those things are dangerous men.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Jason Todd, Roman Sionis/Slade Wilson, Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Series: a perfect set [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711786
Comments: 4
Kudos: 238





	expensive tastes (a perfect set)

Sionis studied them from behind his desk, admiring his collection. 

First was Victor Zsasz, dark eyes fixed on the switchblade he flicked effortlessly open and closed, making the blade dance in a deadly blur of liquid silver. He glanced at Sionis and smirked, knife never faltering. The set of five fresh tally marks on Zsasz’s palm was a testament of his loyalty to Sionis; each had been added due to Black Mask’s command, every one of them a life extinguished. 

_ Exquisite,  _ Sionis had told Zsasz after he had made the marks in one sitting.  _ You are an artist, Mr. Zsasz. I’ll have the bodies disposed of. _ They had walked out of the warehouse together and left the cooling corpses of Sionis’ enemies in their wake.

Yes, Zsasz was Sionis’ prized possession, just as the man that he stood beside was his newest.

Red Hood sat with arms crossed, veneer of boredom as false as the crimson symbol of the Bat scrawled across his chest. Sionis would have Hood wearing a skull in its place soon enough. One ought to properly mark what one owned, after all. And Red Hood  _ was _ his, even if the younger man didn’t know it yet. 

Oh, the way he’d snap and snarl, baring his teeth to fight like the cornered mutt he was when he  _ did _ realize... Sionis was looking forward to seeing it. 

And then, after he broke his new pet, he would be able to train him. Black Mask suspected that Red Hood would make a lovely little lapdog.

That brought Sionis to the matter of Deadshot. Perched on the edge of his chair, the man was glaring at Zsasz and appeared almost comically uncomfortable with the environment he found himself in. It was a shame, in all honesty. Though Sionis was well-aware that Deadshot was worth every cent he asked for, there was a small issue: the sniper seemed to be a straight-shot in more ways than one. 

_ Perhaps a few drinks could change that, _ Sionis thought.  _ Mixed with some drugs...mm, but that’s an experiment for another night. _ For now, Sionis turned his attention to the final piece of his collection.

Such a fine piece it was, too. Deathstroke had a deadly grace about him, the possibility of destruction rippling beneath every fluid movement. It was that, combined with the man’s unaffected air, which had so appealed to Black Mask. To see Deathstroke work was a thing of beauty, cooly obeying orders and making little fuss as he killed. He stood in stark contrast to the sacrilegious rite of Zsasz’s bloodletting; the two men could--and  _ would _ \--be a delightful pair under Sionis’ commanding hand. Zsasz already did all that he asked of him (and more); it was only a matter of time before Deathstroke would do the same.

Presently, Sionis wondered if Deathstroke in his younger years had been like Red Hood--a hellion of a brat with a brutal streak the same size as the chip on his shoulder. Looking at Deathstroke now, as he idly watched Zsasz’s knife tricks, it seemed improbable.  _ But you never know with that one, _ thought Sionis. _ Maybe that’s why he’s such fun. _

When Sionis next caught Zsasz’s eye, he gave an incremental nod of his head.  _ Time to test a theory, _ that nod said. Zsasz grinned--and slung his knife at Deathstroke’s exposed face.

As expected, the man caught it with ease, his expression remaining more-or-less unchanged. Sionis observed this out of his peripherals: Deathstroke’s reaction wasn’t what he was interested in. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Red Hood. 

And Sionis liked what he saw. The boy had actually flinched at Zsasz’s sudden movement, though it was minute enough that Sionis would have missed it completely had he not been watching Hood like a hawk. 

But a flinch was a flinch, and Sionis could work with that.  _ My poor little doggy. Did someone beat you when you were just a pup? _ He swallowed his laughter.  _ Don’t worry: now that you’re mine, no one else will ever hurt you. In fact, neither will I...so long as you behave. _

A hearty (if slightly shaken) chuckle broke the silence. 

“Nice catch,” said Deadshot, leaning back in his chair as the tension ebbed out of him. If the violence he’d been prepared for had passed, then he could relax. He was still cautious, still alert, but less so than he had been.  _ Good.  _

“Ehh, not bad,” added Red Hood, voice robotic through his helmet’s modulator. He’d clearly decided that his alarm had gone unnoticed.  _ Cute, _ thought Sionis. _ Wrong, but cute. _

“Thanks,” came Deathstroke’s monotone reply. He offered the switchblade to Zsasz handle-first, holding it by the blade itself. “I know you have a thing for knives, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again. Your boss wouldn’t be too happy if I killed you.” 

_ Which is why you’re currently continuing to enjoy being alive, _ Sionis finished in his head.  _ Ah, such a fine couple you and Mr. Zsasz will make, both of you obeying my every order.  _ To hide his amusement, Sionis went about lighting a cigar while Zsasz retrieved his knife. 

_ How much, _ Sionis mused, _ would I have to pay Deathstroke to let Zsasz cut into him? Would it be more or less than the sum required to let Zsasz (or I) fuck him? _

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Sionis found he was quite pleased with how the night was progressing. And why shouldn’t he be? 

He’d collected the perfect set of mercenaries.

**Author's Note:**

> https://lizard-hair.tumblr.com/post/191003118560/concept-black-mask-with-a-fucking-harem-of
> 
> tfw you write a fic because of your own post
> 
> at any rate, thanks for reading 🖤


End file.
